


Heart Tied In A Knot

by orphan_account



Series: The RomCom Collection [1]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Coffee might be accidental symbolism for love can you tell I'm projecting, F/F, F/M, Not The Healthiest Polyamory, Notting Hill AU, Pearl Owns(?) A Bookshop, Rose Is An A-List Actress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-27 20:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13255932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Lmaoooo I have no idea how to write these characters.





	Heart Tied In A Knot

**Author's Note:**

> Lmaoooo I have no idea how to write these characters.

Pearl has grown somewhat fond of her admittedly dull daily routine and the predictability that comes with it. That is not to say that every day plays out exactly the same as the last. Yes, she and her roommate Amy snap at each other most mornings because of the bitterness that comes along with waking up with the sun while only in possession of a broken coffee maker. However, the angrily snipped words are nearly always different, in either severity or topic. You don’t really run out of things to get mad about when living with someone with as much… _personality_ as Amy.

After she parts ways with Amy, who can be depended upon to be raising her middle fingers as Pearl leaves the townhouse, she jogs/speedwalks the three minutes it takes her to get to work. She calls this her daily workout. Lapis calls it pathetic. Pearl calls her a hypocrite. They talk only minimally for the rest of the day.

Lapis is the only other employee at the travel bookshop that Pearl manages. Owns? The original owner is (was?) a sweet old man that Pearl had only had the pleasure of meeting the one time five years ago when she was first hired. He has been missing in action ever since. Whenever his name is mentioned questioningly by long time customers, Lapis offhandedly says that he’s probably dead.

She is possibly the most apathetic, lazy employee Pearl could’ve brought on board for a customer service type of job. Unfortunately, she is also a friend of a friend and the only applicant that Pearl has gotten in all of her time working here. She at least excels at sorting and filing. And bringing them a dozen sugary drinks from the coffeehouse around the corner everyday. This would be more lovable behavior if she ever came back to work with a beverage that Pearl requested. Not _once_ has that happened in the three years they’ve been coworkers. It’s an ongoing joke in the way that its not, Pearl getting more annoyed and Lapis giving less of a damn every time it occurs.

Today might just be the day blood is drawn.

“Okay, get out a pen and a notecard,” Pearl instructs, throwing out her empty paper cup of what had been _decaf coffee with soy milk and ten sugars._

“This isn’t necessary,” Lapis sighs, doing as she’s told anyway, “I’ll remember.”

She will not.

“A vanilla frappuccino. That’s. _All_ .” Pearl enunciates in a manner that would be offensive to anyone who _cared_ about _anything_. Luckily, she’s dealing with Lapis, whom is in all likelihood an alien without any knowledge or grasp of human emotion.

“Got it,” Lapis blinks, pencil moving flippantly across the card, “Should I pick up lunch-?”

“No!” Pearl rushes out, seeing the iced delight slip further and further from her realm of possibility as Lapis puts too many things on her remiss mind, “Just the frappuccino!”

“Fine,” She slips the notecard into the back pocket of her baggy jeans and heads out the door without so much as a goodbye. Definitely an alien.

Pearl huffs brushing her bangs out of her face as she gets back to completing the thrilling task of maintaining the accounting records. Her fingers dance impatiently across the archaic keyboard as she squints at the equally outdated, and therefore tragically slow, computer monitor. She is constantly hoping for someone to break in and steal the damned thing so she can use the insurance money to buy even a _slightly_ better one. Glaring at the numbers sluggishly appearing on the screen thirty seconds after she’s clicked the keys, she’s very close to commiting the crime herself.

Before the planning of her trip down illegality lane can even begin to be fleshed out, the bell above the front door dings.

She stands from her seat behind the cluttered desk in the office and walks into the main area of the store, putting on a friendly smile as she prepares to deal with what will most likely be the only customer they see today. The smile freezes awkwardly onto her thin lips as she takes in what exactly just walked into the shop. A solid confirmation of her homosexuality.

A long sleeve, thick sweater dress is doing god’s work in hugging wonderfully plump curves and dips, but doing a terrible job at keeping the woman warm. Judging from the smattering of scarlet on her full cheeks and the exposed expanse of creamy, pink skin of her soft looking legs, that is. Pearl guesses that its less out of want to show off so much skin in January and more so the woman being unable to find clothing long enough with her considerable size. Height! Not- She untucks her chin from the wide scarf around her neck, freeing a plush, painted mouth in the process. Those large lips aim at Pearl, stretching to reveal a toothy smile that could kill the weak.

Pearl is the weak.

“Hi,” The woman greets, vocal chords drenched in honey, “Do you work here?”

Pearl wipes the undoubtedly stupid expression from her face and collects her bearings as well as she’s able with cupid relentlessly firing down on her.

“I do,” Her voice cracks like a teenage boy’s, which is truly all she’s been rendered to at the sight of the ethereal beauty. A succubus, probably.

“Why?” She asks, brushing long curls over her shoulder.

Pearl notes with some envy that the strawberry blonde color of the woman’s hair must be natural, because it’s the shade that she herself has been trying to achieve with multitudinous types of dye since she graduated high school with the student assigned superlative of most boring hair. She hadn’t necessarily minded her shoulder length, mousy brown look, but her own self consciousness led to the dramatic cut of two-thousand-ten. Thankfully, her pixie gets much more positive attention, nevermind the constant presence of unsightly roots.

Warmth floods her face as she registers that the woman is waiting for an answer, “Oh! Ah… I like books?”

“Travel books?” She challenges, the playful glint more obvious in her brown eyes as she approaches.

Pearl laughs nervously, the noise more identifiable as a gurgle than a giggle as she finds herself mere inches away from the woman, “Well, not particularly. But this was the store that had an opening, so…”

“So,” Her laugh is much nicer, “Just convenience?”

“I- I suppose so, yes,” Pearl gulps, crawling out of the lustful haze clouding over her brain just enough to realize that this is a bit of an odd conversation to be having with a stranger, especially a customer, “Why do you ask?”

The woman shrugs, looking endearingly embarrassed. Which is completely unfair considering how stupid Pearl looks when she’s brewing in humiliation. Like now, dried coffee on her blouse and face covered in yesterday’s smeared makeup.

“I’ve never actually seen a travel book shop before. I was… curious,” She explains, shaking her head at herself, “Silly, really. I was imagining a bunch of old people running the place, gloating about their time exploring the world and forcing plane tickets to exotic places on the youth.”

“No,” Pearl laughs grossly again, putting a hand to her chest as subtly as she can in an attempt to hide the stain, “It’s just dusty books and- and, well, me.”

“Just you,” The woman repeats, lips twitching.

The bell above the door dings again, signaling Lapis’s return. Pearl frowns deeply as she turns to see a fast food bag in her grasp, not a beverage to be seen.

“And her,” Pearl corrects with a little breath of irritation.

“Oh my,” The woman picks up on the change of air, seeming to find it more humorous than anything, “I guess I better get going, then. Here,” She plucks a random book from a shelf and hands Pearl a few bills along with a bright grin, “See you around?”

She backs away from Pearl and leisurely heads for the door, probably in no rush to dive back into the cruel embrace of the windy winter afternoon.

“See you,” Pearl croaks, a little late as the door shuts behind the woman.

Lapis sets the greasy bag down on the check out table, the move successfully bringing Pearl out of her stupor, “I got you a double cheeseburger.”

She grabs a fistful of her hair, pulling it to keep her temper in check as she grits out, _"Why_?”

“It’s lunchtime,” Lapis answers with ease, continuing before Pearl pops a blood vessel, “Was she nice?”

Pearl relinquishes her grip on her reddish locks, floundering, “What?”

“Rose Quartz,” She clarifies, unpacking the bag, “She seems nice in her interviews. Maybe a little annoying.”

“Uh,” Pearl is having a particularly ineloquent day, “Who?”

Lapis gives her one of those looks that makes Pearl feel absolutely incompetent, despite her bachelor’s degree and Lapis’s own intellectual shortcomings. Her _memory_ , for instance.

“The actress?” She uses the same condescending tone Pearl had taken with her earlier, “She just bought a book? You’re holding the money she gave you?”

Pearl blanches, eyes widening as she looks at the crisp cash in her hand. _Sixty bucks_ for an old, flimsy paperback- Oh, _god_.

She drops the money like it’s on fire, backing away from it as her mind tries to process the fact that she was just drooling over an _actress_ like a _fool_. No wonder she’d been so pretty! No wonder she’d been _laughing_! Stupid, stupid, stupid-!

“Where are you going?” Lapis asks as Pearl trips over herself in her haste to leave the store and bury herself in the snow.

“To get my vanilla frappuccino!” She screeches, viciously slamming the glass door as cold air whips brutally against her bare arms.

Lapis usually goes on the coffee runs for a _reason_ ; The typical barista at the coffeehouse is unpleasantly loud and unfriendly. Employees like that would usually lead to Pearl meekly and exhaustively trying to emit enough positive energy to negate the hostile air.

This time, in her mortification fueled fury, Pearl had acted equally loud and unfriendly. Not an especially smart move considering the bulging biceps visible underneath the young woman’s uniform t-shirt, but she had luckily received her icey afternoon delight without throwing/catching any punches. A win.

She exits the establishment with a satisfying sip of her vanilla frappe through a clear plastic straw. This would soothe her emotional wounds. It would not, however, do anything to keep her warm with the weather being as cold as her sugary drink. Not a very good seasonal choice, she would admit. And neither was foolishly forgetting her coat.

Shivering, she starts the minute trudge back to work, gritting her teeth against the harshness of the elements and forcing herself not to gulp down another mouthful of vanilla goodness. It won’t do her any good until she’s indoors, where there’s _heat_ -

A large mass of heat collides with her as she turns the corner, knocking her beverage out of her grip and spilling it between them. The initial flood of warmth that comes with making contact with another human is quickly extinguished by the frappuccino showering down on their torsos.

Pearl gasps at the sensation, the loss of her treat, and the dread that strikes her as she anticipates how bad the person’s reaction to the accident will be. She can only hope to avoid a brawl in the middle of town-

“You again,” A familiar saccharine tone dooms Pearl to an immobile state of shock as she stares up at the woman. The _actress_. Rose Quartz. Holy- “I wasn’t paying attention-”

“I’m so sorry!” Pearl yelps before Rose Quartz can finish her sentence, paralyzed limbs and jaw jumping into action as guilt overshadows surprise, “I didn’t- Oh no, look at your dress!” She’s ruined it. It probably costs more than her parent’s house. “I- I’ll buy you a new one!” She’s digging herself into a grave of debt; She can’t even afford a new coffee maker for heaven’s sake, and she has _so many_ student loans to pay off-

Rose Quartz laughs, like she knows this, “You don’t have to do that! It’s just clothes.”

Clothes that were probably spun from gold or something equally ostentatious. Rose Quartz shudders with Pearl as a strong gust of wind sends both of their heads of hair into utter disarray. Pearl’s eyes bulge from her head as she realizes that the icy wetness covering nearly all of Rose Quartz’s front half can’t be doing her any favors in this weather- Dear god, she’s going to freeze an american treasure to death. The media will _lynch_ her.

“Come home with me!” She blurts, flushing from head to toe at the phrasing and quickly reiterating, “To change! I’ll give you an outfit- I- I don’t want you to get sick because of me.”

Rose Quartz hums hesitantly, thinking it over. Pearl rushes to continue, desperately trying to not come off as a psychotic fan intent on abducting her with, in her opinion, little success.

“I live right across the street and you could probably bench press me,” Pearl coughs, uncomfortably fidgeting, “It’ll take five minutes.”

“Well,” Rose Quartz’s lips tentatively curl upwards, “I can spare five minutes.”

Pearl’s lips turn upwards on their own accord. She quickly wipes away the expression out of fear of looking creepy and clears her throat, “Follow me.”

The apartment is completely _trashed_ , Pearl is appalled to discover as the pair enter the cluttered, cramped space. Shame burrows into her, despite most of the mess no doubt being from Amy having the place to herself all morning. Pearl’s paranoia helpfully supplies the notion that Rose Quartz is probably even more disgusted by the state of things than herself.

“Sorry about the mess,” She chokes out as she frantically flutters around to pick up dirty dishes placed in odd nooks and crannies around the living area, hallway, and kitchen. Amy’s appetite is a terrifying thing.

She all but hurls the filthy tableware into the sink, inspecting the abysmal entirety of the downstairs to see what else can be cleaned with a quickness that will make the _celebrity_ feel more comfortable in Pearl’s sorry excuse of a home. The collection of Better Homes and Gardens magazines Pearl’s been acquiring through a subscription for _years_ lay atop of the dining room table, mocking her.

“Um,” Pearl swallows, down her embarrassment like it’s a pill the size of a horse, “Let me get you some clothes.”

“Thanks,” Rose Quartz says, amusement transparent.

Choosing to believe that the woman is laughing with her and not at her, Pearl goes up the stairs and into Amy’s bedroom. The strong scent of Axe body spray and _garbage_ hits her like a metal pipe to the face. Cringing with her whole body, she takes unenthusiastic steps further into the stench. Amy is a damn _hoarder_.

She is also _very_ short, so the only hope of Pearl finding anything that will come close to fitting Rose Quartz in all of her glory is going to be dramatically oversized on her roommate. But there’s a much better chance of Amy having something than Pearl, what with her being a stick masquerading as a woman.

Rummaging through overstuffed drawers, Pearl eventually comes across a sweat shirt and pants set that appear to be of a good size, a distasteful band logo branded all over the thick, black fabric. The outfit doesn’t smell especially clean, but it will at least be warmer than the drenched sweater dress.

She speeds down the steps, face spasming at the sight of Rose Quartz inspecting the stuffed bookshelf next to the sofa.

“These aren’t travel books,” The actress teases, giggling at the incriminatingly cheesy, lovey dovey titles on the spines of nearly every single novel.

“I think they’re funny,” Pearl insists, the line so rehearsed and practiced it flows from her tongue on instinct.

Rose Quartz’s giggling grows louder, yet another testament to how swell of a liar Pearl is.

Blushing, she hands the pile of clothes to Rose Quartz and gives her directions to the restroom. She goes to change, laughter still in the process of dying down as the bathroom door shuts.

Torn between huffing and puffing and handing her heart over on a silver platter, Pearl settles for continuing to tidy up as quickly as possible. She’s proud to say that she’s gotten the space to almost passable by the time Rose Quartz exits the bathroom.

The sweatshirt just barely covers her navel and the pants are more like capris, but it should be just fine in a pinch.

“Sorry,” Pearl mumbles, setting down her spray bottle of cleaner onto the kitchen counter, “It was the best I could find.”

“It’s great. Thanks again.” Rose Quartz waves off the apology, slinging her shopping bag over shoulder with a grin, “This has been a wonderful five minutes.”

“Do- Ah, do you want anything before you go?” Pearl belatedly remembers her manners, “Anything but coffee. The machine’s been… less than cooperative. For almost six months now. But, uh, orange juice?”

Rose Quartz graciously shakes her head.

“Then how about some…,” Pearl scrambles over to the fridge opening it and giving the sparse contents an unimpressed stare, “Expired relish. No- Oh! Honey soaked apricots! Do you- Would you like…?”

Rose Quartz looks as if she’s going to give another shake of her head, but instead nods, probably recognizing the raw determination in Pearl’s eyes, “Sure!”

Smiling victoriously, Pearl grabs the whole jar and places it in the woman’s unprepared hands.

“Let me walk you out!” Pearl chirps, throwing herself into full blown hostess mode in order to repress her stress.

She places a light hand on Rose Quartz’s upper arm and guides the both of them to the front door, trying to seem very casual in the physical contact and not show that she’s about to self destruct.

“I never got your name,” Rose Quartz prompts as they reach the end of the hallway.

“Pearl,” She says, lowering her hand and crossing her arms in an attempt to contain herself.

“It was very nice to meet you, Pearl.”

Pearl’s hands ball into fists, long nails digging into her palms hard enough to leave a mark as she nods, not trusting her voice enough to not squeak like a dog toy.

“I’m Rose,” She says, as if all of the world doesn’t know.

Her breath fans over Pearl’s face as she leans down in a suggestive manner that Pearl is of course projecting because she is the absolute _worst_ person to ever live.

“Nice to meet you, too,” No squeaks, but the cracking is nearly just as bad. She licks her suddenly dry lips, “Rose.”

Their mouths briefly connect, all sweet, soft pressure and candy flavored lipstick.

Pearl falls in love instantly.

The following day, once the rose colored lenses she’d been perceiving things through for the last twenty hours finally fades to somewhat clear, Pearl has the realization that this is the first time she’s been in anything close to love since her freshman year of college. And that hadn’t exactly ended well for her.

Lowering the sponge and marinara stained glass bowl in either of her raw hands, Pearl stares anxiously at the space in front of the front door where the Feelings had been Caught. She _tsks_ at herself, stomach knotting up as she mentally berates herself for reading so much into things and thinking so childishly.

She turns back to the sink, jerking the faucet on while ignoring her stinging eyes.

Rose is most likely the kind of person to do whatever she wants, whenever she wants. And lucky Pearl; Rose had been in the mood for a meet cute and a kiss with a bookshop manager with a stained blouse and a prominent nose. But moods come and go, and, if Pearl had to guess, with a quickness where flighty celebrities are concerned.

Smothering her guilt for thinking of Rose in such an offensive way, Pearl pushes any and all thoughts of the woman to the back of her mind. Bursting into tears while only halfway done with the dishes isn’t going to be whatsoever beneficial.

Amy’s uncaringly loud footsteps on the stairs alert Pearl to the waking of the beast.

“It’s one pm,” Pearl reproachfully admonishes, thankful for the distraction that.

“It’s Saturday,” Amy retorts, with equal amounts of distaste, “How long have you been _cleaning_?”

“Eight.”

“Gross,” She gags, groggily stumbling around her to get to the fridge, “How do you live with yourself?”

“You mean without maggots squirming in my great grandmother’s china?” Pearl bites out, abrasive side of the sponge ripping as she scrubs with all of her might, “Happily.”

Amy makes immensely mature sounds of ridicule, pulling out the freshly purchased carton of two percent milk Pearl purchased that morning. She twists off the top and takes a long swig directly from the jug. Pearl’s horror and revulsion grows the longer her lips stay wrapped around the plastic.

“ _You_ -!”

“You got a call last night,” Amy interrupts.

The bowl slips from Pearl’s raised, spindly fingers, crashing into the steel sink and shattering on impact. Pearl ignores both the mess and Amy’s dropped, milk streaked jaw.

“Who?” She asks, very calmly and not at all with an unhealthy amount elation.

You would’ve thought she’d hurled the question out like it was a piece of the broken glass from the way Amy’s thick eyebrows raised and her slouched body perked up, “… Some lady.”

“What lady?” Pearl demands, impatience swelling up like a balloon a breath away from popping.

Amy narrows her eyes at her, a knowing smirk taking over her mouth, “Is this the same chick that Lapis caught you drooling over yesterday?”

Mount Pearl chaotically erupts, unbearable heat scorching her face, ears, and chest, “When did you talk to Lapis?!”

“We watch Adam Sandler movies over Skype on Friday nights,” Her expression grows wicked, “Don’t change the subject, P. Lapis said she was a total babe.”

Pearl sincerely doubts that Amy isn’t paraphrasing, “I- I- I don’t know! You’re the one who answered the phone!”

“Yeah, because you go to sleep at like seven fucking thirty like a fucking elder-”

“What did she say?!” She hisses, not in any mood to have one of their domestics.

Amy’s look has gone from unscrupulous to downright slimey, “She wanted to invite you to her hotel room.”

“In the middle of the night?!” Pearl is screaming at this point, volume control a distant memory as her wet hands fist into her hair, “Why didn’t you wake me up?!”

Snickers fill the room, followed by full blown hysterical cackling as Pearl grows increasingly red and Amy absolutely loses her mind, having to grab onto the fridge handle to support herself as her lungs run out of air. Gasping, the rude woman gestures to where the home phone resides on the small table by the recliner.

“I wrote down the message. It was really weird, but, hey, I can’t judge,” Every word is separated by a snort, a hiccup, or an outright paroxysm of laughter, “Oh, man, enjoy your day off, you- you promiscuous- Oh my god,” Tears roll down her cheeks as she melts onto the freshly mopped floor, “Pearl!”

The walk to the hotel is a long one, three miles, but the hour flies by impossibly fast as Pearl spends the time on the brink of a mental break down.

What if the invitation had only been good for one night only? She shows up at the door, gets rudely turned away, and the celebrity’s seventeen prettier, more feminine lovers laugh with her as they watch Pearl walk home in the cold from their penthouse suite window.

What if Rose is already long gone and Pearl’s just wasting her time?

Hundreds of these delightfully encouraging scenarios have kept her company during her trek. As she enters the luxurious lobby of the hotel, her mouth dries and puckers, anticipation curling sourly in her stomach. The worst fantasy her mind concocted this afternoon comes to mind; The one with the trigger happy bodyguards. Nausea bubbling at the thought, Pearl is well over confident that this is going to go atrociously.

But a quitter she is not, so she marches up to the front desk and with an only slightly quivering voice follows the message’s instructions in requesting Black-Eyed Susan’s room number. Not giving Pearl so much as a second glance, the front desk agent flatly gives her the number and vague directions, continuing to urgently type on the high tech tablet in front of them all the while.

Pearl robotically moves her limbs, focusing very hard on keeping her mind blank as she steps into the elevator. Any single wandering thought could lead to an entire line of thinking, which will very lead to overthinking. This must be avoided at all costs if she hopes to see Rose without throwing up all over her perfection.

She’s in front of the door in no time at all, palms sweating profusely as she knocks lightly against the cream painted wood.

A sharply dressed woman with a clipboard and a bluetooth answers the door a millisecond later, hair pulled back in a strict bun and round glasses balancing precariously on the edge of her nose. She appears to be having two different conversations, one with the person talking into her headset and one with the teenager balancing two trays of coffees and a box of gourmet donuts in his unsteady arms. Still, she ushers Pearl inside with an empty smile and points her over to a man armed with a bulging binder and eyebags visible from yards away. Pearl goes where she’s directed, having to dodge what feels like millions of other busy, chattering people on her way.

Somehow, she hadn’t been expecting this.

“Hello,” She sheepishly greets the man, trying her best not to look as terrified as she is, “I’m-”

“What magazine?” He cuts her off, throwing open the binder and getting his pen ready.

Pearl can only blink in confusion. He raises shapely eyebrows at her unhelpfully.

Not wanting to seem like a complete outsider and idiot, she hazards a guess, “Better Homes and Gardens.”

He gives her a puzzled look that she panics at, but he scrawls the title down on the page anyway, so Pearl figures she’s doing at least okay.

“You can meet with the cast in the backroom,” He snaps the binder shut, “We’re wrapping things up here, so keep it short.”

“Cast?” She inquires, only for him to turn his back on her and jog over to the boy with the coffees.

Pearl stands there, befuddled beyond measure for a full minute. After a third person runs into her, she starts towards the open door of the aforementioned backroom, head swimming and legs feeling as if they’re fighting their way through a pool of molasses. Uncertainty has taken over with crippling results.

The first steps she takes into the large room are tentative and met with recurring waves of regret as she feels herself getting into a bigger and bigger mess. The sight of the familiar voluptuous beauty sat behind a table causes her to forget her hesitance altogether. She stares, for what could probably be considered a wildly inappropriate length of time. Rose’s divine face eventually turns in her direction.

White teeth glint blindingly at her, full cheeks migrating upwards, and round eyes squinting in a way that is inarguably adorable. She jumps to her feet enthusiastically, “Pearl!”

“Rose!” The excitement is contagious, instantaneously washing away all of Pearl’s doubt and most of her discomfort. She meets Rose in the middle of the room, the other people present all much too occupied in either eating or talking to care much about the pair’s melodramatic reunion. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, we just did a screening of a new film I’m in. The journalists who watched are interviewing the cast and crew,” She shares a look with Pearl that invites her to believe that they are equally new to this kind of chaos, though they both know the notion to be ridiculous and untrue, “How did you get the staff to let you back here?”

Pearl shrugs, cluelessly, “I- I told someone I was with Better Homes and Gardens?”

“Really?” Merriment shines in her lovely eyes as she blesses the room with a short giggle, “Did they laugh?”

“Uh,” Premature dread strikes her, the blow only slightly softened by the fondness Rose is radiating, “… Sort of. Why?”

“Well, the movie is about genderless rocks at war. In space,” Rose struggles to maintain a sober expression as Pearl’s brows crease, “In which there is a noticeable lack of both homes and gardens.”

“Oh, god,” She groans, covering her now glowing face with her hands. Realizing that this is a juvenile way to behave in front of someone she wants to like her, Pearl moves to crossing her arms and forcing a smile. A self deprecating smile, but a smile, nonetheless, “It wouldn’t have been much of an interview, huh?”

Rose’s own smile doesn’t hold any negativity at all, “I’m sure you’re creative enough to have come up with something.”

“Are you free later?” The flattery prompts the words to blurt out on their own accord.

Rose laughs, not _unsweetly_ , but definitely… differently. Alluringly.

“I can be.”

“Do you…,” Pearl flushes from head to toe as their audience comes to mind, “Ah, well, that is- I-If you are-”

“Would you like to go out with me tonight?” Rose might not be smoldering, but Pearl can’t be quite sure with her brain uselessly short circuiting like it is.

“Very much so, yes,” She chokes out after far too long of a pause.

Roses lips, colored a vibrant red today, twitch, “Can I have your cell number?”

Pretty people should not be allowed to say such alarming things right after another like this, it just cannot be good for anyone’s health. If Pearl’s erratically racing heart is anything to go by, anyway.

She might as well be having a stroke, “Very much so, yes.”

Rose escorts her to the front door with a welcome hand that takes up the entire expanse of her lower back as Pearl distracts herself from fainting by inputting her information in the woman’s phone. Rose takes the device back with a pleased grin.

“I’ll call you after I finish up here and we’ll set something up. Okay?” She opens the door to the hotel hallway.

“Okay, ” Pearl agrees, hopelessly besotted as lips brush innocently over her cheekbone.

The walk home is one spent feeling like too much of a gooey, warm mess to be affected by the unforgiving cold. At least until she’s halfway into her journey and she recalls that Perri’s birthday dinner is scheduled for later this evening.

Pearl rarely curses, but she believes that the murderous, “ _Fuck_!” that spits from her mouth and startles two fellow pedestrians is more than appropriate.

She spends at least an hour anxiously pacing around the small space of her living room, thinking her way into a migraine chewing on her lip until blood is drawn. She eventually makes a decision, leaving her cellular in the front pocket of her slacks, at full volume, of course, and instead picking up the dated home phone.

Dialing a number she’s called more than enough times to have memorized, she swallows down the contrite lump in her throat and awaits Perri’s familiar, faux confident phone voice.

“Hello,” Garnet says, confidence not at all forced and tone no nonsense.

Pearl had been deathly afraid of this outcome, “Oh, Garnet! I- I meant to call Perri!”

“The hazards of sharing a home.”

Contrary to what her flat voice would suggest, this is a joke, which Pearl can only decipher because of several years of Garnet exposure.

She laughs, an ugly and unconvincing sound, “You can talk to me about that when your roommate is putting the house at risk of being condemned.”

Garnet doesn’t so much as chuckle, but that is to be expected, “Why did you call?”

Pearl chokes on air at the abruptness, noises of general panic going into the transmitter in place of words. She puts a stop to the burbling as soon as she’s able, drawing in a deep breath and carefully preparing her message before speaking. Garnet beats her to it.

“You can’t make it.”

This is not a question. Pearl is incoherently and unhelpfully babbling again.

Garnet thankfully interrupts the babyish, unintelligible whining, “It has something to do with the woman you met yesterday.”

“How did you know that?” Her motor skills return, motivated by shock and then outrage, “And when did you talk to Lapis?!”

“Amy told me.”

All of Pearl’s friends are snakes, “My love life should not be treated like- like _hot gossip_! It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve shown interest in another human being!”

“The last person you were attracted to was me,” Garnet counters, doing an amazing job of utterly humiliating Pearl with the power of a single sentence, “Eight years ago.”

“And yet you still bring it up,” Pearl snaps, clenching her fists in a useless display of displeasure that goes unacknowledged over the phone.

“What do you have planned?”

Pearl’s upset is smoothed over with incertitude, “What- Uh-”

“For your _date_?” Garnet is laughing at her; Not outright, not _rudely_ , exactly, but the fact is indisputable.

“Nothing. Yet. She said she’d call.”

The silence on the other end of the line is equal parts judgemental and offensive.

“She will!” Pearl vehemently insists, insult digging into her more sharply with every second of drawn out quiet. Her voice conpensates for the silence with a surge volume, “And _I_ know she will so who cares if you- I don’t need you to- to-! Ah! Tell Perri that I’m sorry and happy birthday! Goodbye, sorry for shouting!”

She hangs up the phone, a confusing cocktail of unnamed emotions swirling within her uncomfortably. Pushing the discomfort aside, she constructs a wall of false composure and marches up the stairs to get ready.

Towards the end of this process, her room is in a state that is horrifyingly similar to Amy’s, in that it is _destroyed._

All of the cosmetics she’s acquired throughout her lifetime, childhood included, lay atop her dresser, yet to be used and drastically cluttering up the area. Clothing is strewn about in an anarchic fashion, completely covering the full size mattress and nearly blocking out all of the carpeted floor from sight. Shoes and bags are guilty of this is well, which is ridiculous because she can’t even remember the last time she carried a purse so why she’s even considering now is- is-

Well, it’s honestly just a testament to how unsure she is on how to proceed. Really, though, how’s she’s meant to know how to dress without any knowledge of what activities will be transpiring tonight is beyond her. She’s been debating on whether overdressing or underdressing would be worse for _ages_ now.

With a glance out of her bedroom window, the night sky confirms the extreme passage of time, filling her with disgust. Why is she like this.

The ringing of the doorbell is a welcome distraction from her self loathing. Even if the visitor is probably Perri, here to kick Pearl in the shins and demand her present in a way that is very befitting of someone in their twenties.

She opens the front door, bracing herself for the assault that of course doesn’t come because Rose is standing on her porch, looking like one of Pearl’s personal favorite cliches of a beauty bathed in moonlight. And the revoltingly yellow porch light, but that isn’t nearly as romantic to observe.

“Hi,” Her lipstick is back to preteen pink, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Pearl agrees, instinctively, before sense catches up with her, “For, uh, what? You didn’t call.”

“I forgot,” She runs a sheepish, gloved hand through her thick ringlets, “But I was thinking we could just go on a walk. See where it goes…”

That doesn’t sound like much of a plan. Going with the flow? Pearl has never even been able to locate a flow that’s been willing to drag her in. She is the anti-flow.

“Sounds great,” She smiles, not _really_ lying, because a date is a date is a date is a date, “Let me grab my coat.”

Once sufficiently bundled up, the fiasco surrounding choosing an outfit already a distant memory, Pearl is locking the door behind her and heading out in a random direction by Rose’s side.

The flow ends up treating her kindly. Amicable, lighthearted conversation is tossed back and forth as their feet move along spontaneous stretches of sidewalk. Pearl even manages to brush cloth covered knuckles with the soft speaking woman without her face overheating to the degree that blood spurts from her nose; Winter weather is to be thanked for this.

Winter weather is not to be thanked, however, for the ice that seeps into Pearl’s very bones ten minutes into their stroll. Her chattering teeth are in imminent danger of killing the gay, tranquil mood that's been building up to some full blown hand holding.

Fingers intertwine with her own as if they're cued. The warmth that curls in her gut at the action would, in theory, erase all traces of the cold from her body. Unfortunately, this is not one of her atrociously cheesy, beloved romance novels, so Pearl still shivers under the hand that envelopes her own.

Still, the contact is nice.

As Rose’s two cents about the uncalled for hype surrounding herbal teas cuts off, so do their footsteps. Rose has stopped them in front of a tall, locked gate encasing what appears to be a park. A closed park. The light in Pearl’s date's eyes would lead you to believe otherwise.

“Wow,” She gasps, hand not laced with Pearl’s wrapping around one of the bars of the gate, “Let's go in.”

What a terrible idea, “Oh, um-”

Rose flashes a dazzling grin and Pearl’s reservations are shooed away at once, “It'll be fun.”

“Well,” Pearl has a boot on the metal before the woman can finish her sentence, eagerness to both please and be liked unhealthily strong, “I am all about fun.”

She scales the fence with a laughable lack of grace. This is confirmed with Rose in stitches at Pearl’s fourth near death experience in a row.  Nevertheless, she makes it to the other side in one piece, beaming at the look of adorable giddiness she receives through the bars as reward for her daring behavior.

“How's the fun side?” Rose giggles.

“Come find out,” Pearl urges, a short burst of adrenaline fueling a what is bound to be an even shorter bout of cockiness.

She appears to be about to do just that, when the sound of tires squealing to a stop and encroaching loud music disrupts the moment. A colorfully painted van has pulled up to the side of the road almost directly behind Rose. Something that looks to put the woman into an unexpectedly joyous mood.

A scruffy man with voluminous hair past his knees and no shirt, despite it being January, throws open the door to his van to shout, “Hey, Rose!”

Rose gives him an enthused wave before turning back to Pearl and aiming a pair of alarmingly impressive puppy dog eyes, “Do you mind?”

“Um,” Pearl supposes that she really should have prepared to deal with Rose running into fans; It's bound to happen if even an airhead like _Lapis_ can recognize her, “Go ahead.”

What Pearl could have never prepared herself for is Rose flinging herself at the man, pressing her lips against his with a passion bordering on lewd, and crawling into his van. They speedily drive off in a sequence of events that all unfold in less than a minute.

Pearl is in such a state of shock and disbelief that she doesn't hear the private park's security guard rush up behind her.

The start of her life as a hardened criminal begins, not with insurance fraud and theft, but a two hundred dollar fine for trespassing. Instead of becoming a genius felon to be feared, she is now a stereotypically dumb young adult who acquired her very first misdemeanor because she was trying to impress a girl.                                               

She had thought receiving a court date in the mail, set for less than a month after the incident, that _Amy_ had gotten to first was punishment enough for her reckless idiocy, but no. Along with her friends’ relentless teasing, the return of daily, nagging phone calls from overly concerned parents plague her once again, the years Pearl spent carefully staying under their aggressively loving radar wasted.

With the fine, the upcoming court date, the _bullying_ , the guilt and stress that comes with worrying her family, and the crushing disappointment that’s been weighing her down since she watched the probable love of her life get down and dirty in some _man'_ s van, Pearl is exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. You name it, she feels it.

And shows it, if the shift in behavior of the people she surrounds herself with is any inclination. Lapis is no longer getting her ridiculous drinks; They’re not what she asks for, because miracles are myth, but they’re jarringly close. Garnet and Perri host a movie night showcasing mostly films centered around unrealistic romantic nonsense that only Pearl gets any joy out of. _Amy does the dishes_ -

It’s a lot. And she appreciates it, _a lot_ . But as January turns into February, the fine is paid, and her parents go back to only weekly check ups, and the rest of her problems fade away, she is still unable to happily resume her routine. She knows why and she knows she’s behaving _absurdly_ , but the upset making every average day feel like less than that is persistent.

She met the famous _Rose Quartz_ , shared an innocent peck, and then gone on less than half of a date with her. The end had come before the start, really; There was no way Pearl could justify the ridiculous effect the loss of a two day “relationship” was having on her mood.

Not even the cheesiest of fictional drivel can get her out of her unwarranted funk; This is once again confirmed as she flips boredly through a paperback she purchased earlier this week at a bookshop clever enough to not run themselves nearly out of business by selling _travel_ books.

The mug of overhyped herbal tea on the table beside her still full and long gone cold, but she can’t bring herself to make the ten second journey to the kitchen to throw the mediocre beverage into the microwave. Amy’s footsteps are loud and carelessly heavy above Pearl’s head, telling her that even the laziest person she knows is being more active than her. She acknowledges the fact with a bitter, stubborn sip of cold tea.

Alas, ignoring an unpleasantly room temperature drink is much easier than ignoring the ringing of the doorbell. Pearl gets to her feet, grumbling as she untwists the deadbolt and throws the door open.

Rose is there, smiling just as sweetly as she had been when she’d stood there over a month ago, “Hi.”

Pearl’s face contorts. Anger that she hadn’t at all been aware of harbouring takes over every cell in her body and pushes a scornful scoff out of her sneering mouth. She slams the door with more strength than she would’ve thought she possessed and locks everything up with harsh, jerky movements, turning her back on the exit afterwards. Squeezing her eyes shut, she lets out a shuddering breath and slumps against the wood. Oh.

She hasn’t been sad, she’s been righteously pissed off. Weight lifts from her shoulders almost immediately at the relief of realizing that she hasn’t been acting like a pathetic, smitten dolt.

Her eyes snap open at the feeling of two hands wrapping around her arms. Amy is in front of her, mouth stretched into a grin that takes up half of her face.

“ _Pearl_!” She cheers, shaking her back and forth zealously, “What did you just do?!”

“I- I-” Pearl doesn’t know, “I… I slammed the door.”

“ _Yes_!” The word is screeched with chaotic energy, “You slammed the door right in her smug! Fucking! Face!”

“Yeah,” She changes her tone to match the zest as well as she’s able, “Yes, I did!”

“Prison changed you, P.”

The following hour is spent celebrating with cans of cheap beer that Pearl normally wouldn’t even think about drinking, but Amy is as insistent as she is proud. So they’re both dizzy and noisily giggling messes slumped over the kitchen table before they part ways for the evening, Amy heading out to play some new video game or another in Lapis’s studio.

Pearl returns to her book, the foul taste of beer thick on her tongue as she sinks into the couch and tries to insert herself back into the generic story. Her eyes won’t cooperate, which she is ready to blame on the alcohol, before numerous fat tears seep into the pages exposed in her lap. A pathetic, smitten dolt she is afterall.

The next day, Pearl isn’t as crippled by her emotions as she is the tenacious headache that’s been throbbing behind her skull since she stupidly sobbed herself to sleep.

A migraine wouldn’t usually be much of a problem at work, what with her managing a bookshop, their _maybe_ two customers a day, and Pearl’s only other coworker talking less than a handful of times every few hours. But because of her fantastic luck and Lapis bringing along a certain gaming buddy that had spent the night, the volume of the store is at an alltime high.

Pearl groans into a box filled with new books, head buried within its depths to shield her eyes from the harsh, fluorescent lights. The cardboard of course does nothing to block out the obscene noises of gore and shrieking blaring from Amy’s laptop speakers. Pearl groans again.

But whining isn’t going to get any work done, and _someone_ has to get something accomplished today. It won’t be Lapis, whom is currently slurping up cup noodles and watching Amy’s small screen diligently but with disinterest etched into her expression. Then again, that could just be her face.

Pulling her head out of the half empty box, Pearl pauses to massage her temples before returning to unpackaging the hardbound books about Guam.

“Hey, P!” Amy calls, excruciatingly loudly.

Lapis mumbles something to her as Pearl recuperates from the attack.

Amy tries again, “Hey, P.”

“Yes?” She croaks, throat in almost worse shape than her head.

“You’re girl is pacing in front of the door.”

Pearl startles, nearly knocking over the box in her haste to stand, “ _What_?”

“Rose Quartz,” Lapis clarifies, unnecessarily.

Amy chokes on the large amount of chips she’s just shoved into her mouth, crumbs flying all over her shirt and the checkout table, “Wait, Rose is _Rose Quartz_ ? From _Pretty Woman_ ? What the _fuck_ ”

“That was Julia Roberts!” Pearl hisses peeking around the bookshelf she’s behind to see what is indeed Rose unsurely shuffling around the sidewalk outside of the entrance, snow falling into her sloppy ponytail and shopping bag, “Why is she _here_?”

Rose suddenly pushes the door open, looking uncharacteristically nervous as her eyes sweep across the shop. Pearl hides behind the shelf, heart thumping wildly in her chest. The woman’s probably here to kick her ass for being so rude to her yesterday. Pearl gulps at the thought. That has to be it.

Pearl can not hold her own in a fight right now. She’s ready to admit that jogging for two minutes everyday is not a real workout; Her arms and legs have the same circumference of a toothpick’s. She can vividly see herself being snapped in half just as easily.

Her fists clench and jaw sets, determinedly. But she’ll do what she can-

“Is Pearl here?” A soft voice asks, not sounding at all like someone who wants to throw down.

Pearl frowns, relaxing slightly.

“Uuuh,” All of Pearl’s stress seems to have transferred to Amy, “I- I don’t- She- Maybe- Fuck it. Hey, Pearl, are you here?!”

Sighing, she squares her shoulders and walks out into the open with narrowed eyes, “No.”

Rose’s perfect eyebrows furrow sadly. Pearl crams down the sympathy and guilt the reaction evokes, crossing her arms

“I came to apologize,” The woman says mournfully, walking in Pearl’s direction with the same caution you show to an alley cat, “I was thinking last night. About what I could’ve done to- to make you so mad at me.”

“Truly a mystery,” Pearl sniffs, encouraged by the sly thumbs up Amy and Lapis aim her way.

Rose flushes, grimacing, “I didn’t think- I didn’t know that _you_ thought-”

It’s Pearl’s turn to blush, a mix of embarrassment and fury bringing heat to her face, “What? That I didn’t think you’d be involved with another man the day you asked me out? Well, he didn’t seem to care about seeing you with a woman, so I’m glad you had the talk with him about your- your- _openness_.”

“I like people, yes,” Rose defends, demure attitude changing, “A lot of people. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Pearl prepares to argue-

“No, I know,” Rose droops again, “I should’ve told you, and I’m sorry for not being honest. I just- I wasn’t even _thinking_ about it, because- Well! Because I just liked you so much! You’re very distracting.”

Pearl cannot let the flattery get to her, she fights it off tooth and nail, “Not as distracting as your van man.”

She bites her full bottom lip in a manner more distracting than anything they’re discussing, “Ditching you was cruel and selfish. I won’t bother you with any excuses.”

“Good,” Pearl coughs, eyes stinging for reasons she will blame on her headache as she breaks eye contact, “Now, if you’re quite done _bothering_ me, you can go. I have work to do.”

Rose puffs up like she wants to argue, but smartly deflates.

“Okay… You don’t have to forgive me. I probably wouldn’t,” She swallows, “But just know that while I sometimes may be a lot of terrible things, like selfish and inconsiderate-”

“And a fucking bitch,” Amy mumbles, too loudly. Lapis shushes her.

“-I’m also just a girl,” Rose’s big brown eyes grow wet, “Standing in front of another girl, asking for another chance.”

Pearl purses her lips, indecision and outrage and other wretchedly sappy emotions battling within her for centerstage, “I… I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you,” She murmurs, her free hand fiddling with a strawberry blonde curl, “Oh, and I remember you saying something about your coffee maker being broken, so…”

Rose places the bag she’d been carrying in front of Amy and Lapis, bringing a look of worship to Amy’s eyes. Her roommate glances at her with those wonderfilled eyes and Pearl breaks.

“Fine,” She concedes, her voice cracking on the word, “One date.”

The toothy smile that had stolen Pearl’s breath the first time they met, in this very spot, lights up Rose’s round, gorgeous face. The way Pearl’s heart twists and lungs stop cooperating tell her that one date will be very quickly turning into much more. Her lips twitch upwards in anticipation.

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell that I ran out of f u c k i n g time? I love the downward spiral of unedited quality lol.


End file.
